The Thin Line
by Aldrae
Summary: Nina loves Tenma. Johan does not take the news well. Response to a prompt on LJ. Rated for sexuality and dark themes.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Monster, or Tenma, or Nina or Johan… or the Magnificent Steiner, come to think of it. Sad, I kind of like the Magnificent Steiner.

**Rating: **Definitely** M**

**Authors Notes:** I wrote this in response to a fanfic prompt sent to me by Arararararar on LJ. The prompt reads: 'Johann discovers Tenma and Nina are sleeping together, and rapes Nina out of jealousy and revenge. Bonus points if he tries to convince her that Tenma himself raped/used her.'

I thought it would be a very interesting challenge, especially considering Johan's character. Generally, physical/sexual crimes like rape are not his M.O. It fascinated me to try to come up with circumstances which could prove a believable exception to this rule, without making him seem out of character.

I will need reviews to know if I was able to pull it off. Let me know what you think, Pretty please?

I'll bribe you with cookies? Yes? :)

**WARNING! : **Do not be deceived by the fluff at the beginning. This is a dark, twisted story, about a dark, twisted man. There will be incest, rape, violence and general ugliness. Children, please, for the love of all that is fluffy and innocent and good, stay away from this fic. People sensitive to any of these subjects; know that this story contains them. Do not say you were not warned.

And to those who can take it, read and enjoy… or not.

**The Thin Line**

By Aldrae

Happiness, Nina thought, was such a fragile thing.

That fact made it all the more valuable.

Nina was happy. It was not the giddy, noisily excited glee known by infatuated teenagers the world over when acknowledged by their current crush. It was not the calm, subtly victorious elation of seductresses who have finally managed to conquer the men they truly desire. It was both those things, and so much more. Nina's happiness was the tranquil, inwards sort of joy that only a woman truly in love can feel when lying in the arms of her lover, knowing that after an eternity of wanting, of longing, and of waiting, he finally belonged to her.

It was strange, she mused, how there was no uncertainty about that knowledge.

It was as certain as the pleasant soreness between her legs, the rapidly cooling warmth of his essence between her thighs and inside her.

But it was not just the sex; it was the way he had looked at her when it was over, the awe in his voice as her name fell from his lips, the adoring way he traced her features, his touch gentle in spite of fingers that were hard and ever so slightly calloused. It was how tenderly he kissed her before he fell asleep.

It was the way he was holding her, this very moment, in his sleep.

Tenma was hers now.

Hers…

She supposed she should call him Kenzo from now on.

"Kenzo… Kenzo Tenma, my lover."

Her voice was a soft whisper in the cold, blue-grey moonlit semi-darkness of the room.

It sounded strange, but right, like a new pair of made to measure shoes. The initial stiffness was there, but that would wear away with time and usage. What mattered was that it fit. It fit perfectly. It was just simply, absolutely right.

Her fingers traced the sleeping lines of his face, pushing back the dark strands of hair that fell unto his forehead. They followed the occasional streak of grey that gleamed dully in the moonlit room.

"My lover is Kenzo Tenma,"

She tried hard to stifle a sudden urge to laugh out loud. She did not want to wake him up.

Tenma had fallen asleep, despite his best efforts to stay awake. Nina did not grudge him his sleep. With the combined stresses of travel, jetlag, and long hours of work, he barely rested enough as it was.

Besides, she supposed with a small smile, this time she was partly to blame for his exhaustion.

It had been awkward, and more than a little painful at first, but Tenma had been Tenma through it all; gentle, patient, tender, considerate to the point of being self sacrificing, and far more aware of her needs than of his own.

Nina had heard that it was normal for women to be more than a little disappointed with their first sexual experiences. Nina had always been a very practical sort of girl, and did not suffer the misfortune of having been deluded by romance novels, movies, magazines and the like. She had fully expected sex to be an uncomfortable, awkward, and messy affair with little initial pleasure for the woman. She was prepared for the discomfort, the pain, and the bleeding. She had vaguely hoped, but had not really expected, that she would experience an orgasm the first time she had sex.

Nina was very pleasantly surprised to have been proved wrong.

Yes, it had been painful, and messy, and uncomfortable; the gritty realities of the act were all as present as the sounds and smells of sex and the sweat-salty taste of naked skin.

But it had also been Tenma.

… Kenzo, she corrected herself.

She smiled.

She had to get used to that.

It had been Kenzo, with his tenderness and complete unselfishness, his experienced discipline and his hidden, secretly mischievous side, his deep love for her and his absolute determination to ensure that she enjoyed the act as much as he did.

She had come not once, not twice, but three times. Twice during their long gentle preparatory foreplay, once when he was actually inside her.

No, Nina did not grudge him his right to sleep at all. He'd more than earned it.

She smiled and pressed the tiniest kiss in his forehead, creased ever so slightly, even in his sleep, by habitual lines of worry,

Then she eased herself away from his grip. She needed to use the bathroom.

She would probably take a quick shower as well, she decided. She was accustomed to showering before bed. Afterglow or not, she was not sure she could sleep when she was, quite frankly, this sticky and sweaty and grimy.

Fresh Skin between fresh sheets… well, not so fresh anymore, but still…

Walking quietly so as not to wake him up, Nina headed for the bathroom.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

It was when she came out, wrapped in her powder blue toweling robe, that she noticed the tiny sliver of yellow light creeping underneath the bedroom door.

She had just turned out the bathroom light and was heading quietly back to bed when she saw it.

Her heart stopped.

Nina was in many ways, a creature of habit. She also had a very keen sense of observation. She knew for a fact that she had turned the lights out before she and Tenma had retired for the night. She also knew that that light had not been on ten minutes ago, when she passed by this very door on her way to the bathroom.

Someone had turned on the lights in her living room while she was in the shower.

Her eyes flickered to the bed. Yet even as they did so, she knew it could not be Tenma; He was still asleep.

There was only one other person who knew the passwords to her security entrance locks, only one other person who could possibly have access to her home, this late, without her knowledge.

He had probably heard the shower running, and had turned on the light to alert her to the fact that he was there.

Johan…

It was not the first time he had come to her apartment this late, without prior invitation or notice. It was an odd quirk he had. He would disappear from her life for months on end, return one random night to her apartment, sleep on her couch, and disappear again the following morning, or depending on the circumstances, after visiting for a few days. She had rented a two bedroom flat, so that she could have a functional guest room where he could actually sleep. Johan agreed that it was a good idea, paid for the bed she put there, and left a change of clothes in the closet, but he never slept in the room. It had not taken too long for her to figure out why.

The living room was closer to where she slept.

Blushing in extreme mortification, she wondered how long her older brother had been lying there in the dark on her living room couch, listening to her and Tenma make love. She wondered just how much of it he had heard, and what conclusions he had drawn.

She had not exactly been very quiet.

It figured he'd show up on the very night she'd lost her virginity, after nearly three straight months of complete absence from her life.

She honestly would rather that he had _not_ found out this way. She knew her brother was possessive, unreasonably so. She was aware that he had a fixation on her that was far from healthy. She would have preferred to ease him into the idea gradually. It would have been a slow, painful process, but she was fairly confident that it would have succeeded… eventually. For all his faults and failings in the past, she had no doubt that Johan did love her, and on a positive note, Tenma was one of the few people he respected. If she could have convinced him that she was truly happy, it might have made him miserable, but he would have ultimately let her go.

That plan was hopeless now. He had probably gotten the message, in loud, clear, sudden, graphic, detail.

And Johan generally did not take surprises very well.

Still, it had happened. There was no changing the past. All she could do now was try to control the damage as much as she could.

She would have had to talk with him about it anyway.

Best it get over with now.

She twisted the knob gently, opening the door carefully so that it would not creak, and stepped out into the living room, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the intense brightness. She looked towards the couch, expecting to see her brother.

His blanket was folded neatly, and placed carefully on the couch. Her pillows had been shaken out, and tidily rearranged.

Johan, however, was not in that room.

"Older Brother?"

There was no reply.

She stared blankly at the carefully folded blanket, the fluffed out pillows. She struggled to contemplate the idea of her brother, calmly folding the blanket and fluffing out pillows in the dark, while listening to her having sex in the next room.

It was an idea she found profoundly disturbing.

She looked around, noticed that the light in the never used guest room was on, and that the door had been left slightly ajar.

"Older Brother, are you in here? I'm coming in."

She pushed the door open.

Nina's 'guest room' was exactly the same size as her bedroom, with considerably less furniture, making it look just that much bigger. There was the queen sized bed her brother had paid for, an antique writing desk, two matching chairs which she had found on sale and gotten Dieter to help her fix up, a tiny television set she had insisted on installing despite of her brother's general apathy for any program that was neither news nor informative documentary, and her old couch; the lumpy, rather uncomfortable one she had owned before it became clear to her that her brother was going to be a semi-permanent fixture in her living room. As soon as she'd realized that he had no intention of moving into her guest room, she'd nagged him into buying the new, more comfortable couch... a fact he had benefited from about as much as she had.

"Older brother…"

He was seated at the desk, his back to her. He had his usual dark trousers and shirt on. He was facing the small television set. It was on, to her amazement, and Johan was watching, not the news, but a children's cartoon channel; they were doing reruns of "The Magnificent Steiner"

It was her first sign that something was dreadfully wrong.

Johan rarely indulged in what he referred to, with traces of contemptuous amusement, as 'mindless' entertainment. He had actively stopped watching cartoons by the time he was eight years old, and only tolerated the ones she liked merely because she wanted to watch them.

She remembered how often he would tease her by drearily predicting the end of all the shows before they were even halfway done; He constantly wondered, with an insouciance she always found completely infuriating, why an intelligent girl such as herself would waste her time watching shows that were so insultingly banal. He was frequently amused by her explosive reactions to his quiet, relentless needling, and usually spent most of their precious cartoon watching time teasing and provoking her rather than actually watching the cartoons.

Yet here he was, watching old, poorly dubbed, and cheaply animated re-runs of the Magnificent Steiner all alone in her guest room.

A voice warned her that perhaps now was not the best time to approach her unpredictable, dangerous, quietly volatile brother.

She ignored it.

"It has been a while since we saw each other last, Older Brother."

He made no reply.

"Older Brother…"

"Shh." He said, very softly. "The Magnificent Steiner is about to emerge."

Alarmed, and more than a little afraid, she took a step closer, and then another, her bare feet making no sound on the soft carpet.

"Older Brother…"

He turned then, and looked at her.

His face, for the first time in a very long time, was completely devoid of expression. His blue eyes, so similar in size and shape to her own, were wide open and excessively bright, his stare fixed itself unrelentingly on her face.

It seemed as if he was seeing her, very clearly, for the first time.

His gaze alarmed her. It had little elements of so many things. There was the immediate shock, and perplexed hurt of a child who had been viciously and unexpectedly struck down by its own mother. There was the bewilderment, and rapidly growing anger of a once tamed beast that had been inexplicably injured by the single human it had allowed itself to trust. There was the consternation, disillusionment and rapidly growing despair of a monk standing before the shattered remains of his goddess, struggling to come to terms with the fact that all his convictions, his very reasons for living, were nothing but lies.

There was an unfathomable agony too, in that look, as well as the jealousy and anguish of a devoted lover who had been betrayed and abandoned.

But what terrified her most was the hunger in his look; it was the bare, feral, starving rapacity of a pure predator that had just been granted license to attack and consume its long desired prey.

It was the first time, she realized, that her brother had ever looked at her that way… the cold, vicious, inhumanly calculating way he looked at those unfortunate souls he eventually murdered.

Nina took a step back.

This was worse, so much worse, than she had anticipated.

She was, she suddenly realized, in very serious and very immediate danger.

"Don't you think it's strange, little sister?" He said, his voice quiet and musing. "He never remembers Steiner; he only witnesses the effects of what Steiner has done, like any innocent bystander would. Convenient, isn't it, the freedom to act to save yourself, or to exact vengeance, without the burden of conscience, or memory?"

He turned back to look at the screen.

"So sad," He said softly, "that such freedom is always an illusion. Even when we manage to forget, we are haunted by the questions. The blank spaces wound. They hurt more than the memories would have. Vengeful acts inevitably manage to destroy you, whether you remember committing them or not… especially when it is revenge on someone you happen to love… so very dearly"

He did not take his eyes of the screen. The Magnificent Steiner was flexing his muscles in approved super hero style. He laughed out loud as his enemies quivered in fear.

The TV reproduced laughter sounded tinny, hollow, artificial and empty.

Nina took another step back. If she could just make it to the door, and slip out while he was still watching the show…

She had to warn Tenma. She was not going to delude herself. She knew that both of them were in very grave danger. There was no telling what her deranged brother would decide to do.

"Don't go away, Anna." He said softly. He did not turn.

Mid step, she froze.

"You always run away, always leave. I hate that, you know." His tone was calm and monotonous even as he spoke words which by their very nature should have been hurt and plaintive. He sounded vaguely bored. "We should watch this together, like we used to. Stay, and tell me how great you think it is, then I will reply that it is not that good, and list a thousand and one ways it might be improved upon, then you will get angry, and I will watch you toss your head and pout in that unbearably adorable way that is so _unique_ to you."

She declined, as politely as her rapidly growing fear would allow.

"I really should go back to bed, Older Brother."

"Ah of course, I'm sorry, I forgot. You have a lover now." He turned then, and faced her. His eyes, wide and blue, and disturbing, fixed themselves squarely on hers. "Tell me, Little Sister, what is sex like?"

Nina took another step back.

"I'm sorry." He said "That was a stupid question, wasn't it? Forgive me, but for some reason I am a little slow right now." His eyes left her own then, and wandered over her face, taking in her kiss swollen mouth, the red hickey on her neck, down to the hint of cleavage displayed by the loosely tied front of her robe. It rested there for a moment, and then continued downwards slowly, then up again and back to her eyes.

"You liked it, obviously, so it had to have been good."

"I love him, Older Brother."

There was a long silence following that.

"Why?"

"What?"

"The man who gave me life again; the one person I promised I would never kill." He murmured softly. "Of all the men it could have been, why was it him?"

"Love is love, Older Brother. You cannot honestly expect me to even begin to explain it."

He continued as if he had not heard her.

"Was it the thrill, Anna, the forbidden pleasure of having sex with a man who may very well be our father? Was that what got you off? Did you enjoy letting him use your body that way? I'll bet he _loved _it, the hypocritical pervert, pretending to be such a good man, while putting his filthy hands all over my little sister." Johan paused, contemplative, "But I suppose I cannot really blame him; you invited him, after all." His eyes met hers. "What man in his right mind would turn down an opportunity to fuck you?"

The obscenity hit Nina with the force of a blow. Johan rarely ever used words like that, and never in her presence, never to_ her_.

Her immediate reaction, when the shock faded, was _anger_.

Anger that he would even attempt to sully this fragile thing that was so infinitely _precious_ to her…

Temporarily, the anger even subdued her rising fear.

"Stop it!" She snapped. "This is important to me; don't you dare try to cheapen it!"

Johan merely stared at her.

Realizing that arguing with him was probably not the best way to deal with this, Nina bravely took a step forward.

"Look, Older Brother, I love him. I am happy when I am with him." She said softly. "It is the sort of happiness I have never really felt before. It is so hard to explain this contentment, this peace, all I know is that I want to hold on to it. Please, please try to be happy for me, Older Brother."

His eyes never left her own. She grew bolder, and took another step forward.

"You are my brother. I love you. The fact that I love him does not …"

"Don't lie, Anna."

She stopped.

"There is no point to it. You love him. Say so. _But do not lie to me_."

"I am not lying, Older Brother. I love you dearly, but only …"

"…as a _brother_, Anna?" He sneered. "Isn't that what you want to tell me?"

"It is the only way I can love you, Johan. Anything else would be wrong."

"By what standards exactly?" He asked curiously.

"Society lives by moral rules, Johan. It is what makes us human."

Johan laughed. It was the laughter of an adult at the naïve reply of a child.

"How quick you are to attach yourself to the rules of society when it suits you to do so. But you forget, we have never belonged to proper society, Little Sister. You know this as well as I do. "

"Older Brother…"

"Members of proper society have names, identities, parents they do not have to steal, homes they truly belong to, families that genuinely love them. They are not bred in captivity like pedigreed animals. They do not live on the run like we did as children. Those all knowing entities that laid down the unbreakable rules of moral conduct, where were they when we were growing up? Or when Mother left us? Or when you crept your way _inside_ me and somehow managed to become this… most important part of me? There was wine and blood on the floor of the Red Rose Mansion. You cried. But they did not cry with you, I did. What did those all-seeing judges do to prevent the birth of this monster? Why could they not stop this thing, why could they not have killed it before it became this big? You hide behind the moral rules of society, because you are too afraid to tell me the truth. You do not love me, _you love him_."

Nina was taken aback.

Johan dropped his head in his hands, wearily rubbed at his eyes.

"Older Brother…" she began again, tentatively reaching out her hand.

"I am tired, Little Sister, so very tired. It is exhausting, you know, constantly living off crumbs."

She pulled back the hand she had reached out. "What are you talking about?"

"You tantalize the beast by dropping crumbs." His voice was an even monotone. "Like a dog, I eat the crumbs that fall from my mistress' table; the shredded pieces of watered down affection she occasionally tosses in my general direction. I am hungry, you see, so very hungry. I have been starving for years and years, surviving on the occasional scrap you see fit to throw at me. The pitiful morsels barely scratch the surface of this hunger, but they are nevertheless, very dear morsels to me. You pretend that you do not see the hunger. Then you take away the miserable crumbs your pathetic lapdog values so much, and scold him for wanting them. You are such a heartless woman, Little Sister."

He looked at her.

"I am sick, my darling sister, so sick of living off crumbs. The banquet has been tainted with poison, but the monster _will_ be fed, even if it means death."

Nina took a step back, and then another.

If she could just make it out…

But… Tenma…

There was no telling what Johan would do to the man in this state. There was no way she could leave the man she loved to bear the brunt of her psychotic brother's jealous anger.

She hesitated, trying to decide the wisest course of action.

The phone was in the living room, she could run to it, call the police, get help…

"I have always known you would be the type to scream." His eyes narrowed in speculation "… I wonder, what else am I right about?" He studied her contemplatively. "Did you know little sister, that you have this…sound you make, right at the back of your throat? It is a deep, raspy sort of moan. The first time I heard you make it was right before we headed out for the Czech border, our mother at the time had just given us a little bowl of chocolate ice cream to share. You put a spoon of the ice cream in your mouth, closed your eyes, and then you made that sound.

"I let you finish the ice cream, just so I could hear you make it over and over again. I did not understand what it was about it that stirred me so much, or why I liked to hear you make it. I just knew I did. I was not the only one who noticed it, you know. The man did. He kept watching you with eyes that made my skin crawl. It was one of the reasons I was particularly glad to be rid of that set of parents.

"I heard you make that sound again, after Kinderheim, but by then I understood why I liked it, and what my attachment to it actually _meant_. But of course I could not tell you. You were too innocent to understand such things.

"Did you know that you made that sound today, several times, while you were in there, with _him_?"

"I wonder, what was he doing to you that made you make that sound?"

He smiled.

It was his coldest, cruelest, most shark like smile.

"Would you do me a favor, Little Sister, and make that sound for me?"

Nina was not staying there another second. Making no attempt to hide the fact that she was fleeing, she turned and bolted, heading straight for the door.

The phone was on the writing desk in the living room, luckily not too far from the door.

If she could just make to the door…

But Johan was faster than she was, and far much stronger.

It was without much effort that he caught her. His left hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her attempt to scream at Tenma to wake up, to call for help. His right easily intercepted the elbow that was aimed at his solar plexus. Trapping both her hands in a firm grip, he pulled her back against him. She was completely enveloped by the smell of his cologne… a scent she had whimsically declared to be her favorite when they were both children, and which he had subsequently always worn. It was a scent, she realized, that she had always associated with Johan, and acceptance, and dangerous, but unconditional love…

And betrayal, and murder, and death…

It seemed strangely fitting for what was happening now.

She struggled, kicking back at him with her heels. If it hurt, he gave no sign.

"I told you." He said softly, in her ear. "I hate it when you run away."

Then he kicked the door shut.

"Scream all you want." He said, "But I doubt he will wake up. You exhausted him, remember? You really should have been more careful. He is getting a little too old to take the strain."

She doubled her efforts, but they were completely ineffective. He tossed her onto the bed and swiftly followed, pinning both her hands over her head with his left hand. Holding her body down, very firmly, with his own, he unfastened his belt with his right hand, and used it to secure her hands to the head of the bed.

He clearly was not taking any chances.

She thrashed violently under him, struggling to push him off her, but he did not allow her any leverage. Her struggles were counterproductive. Even before she had lost her virginity, she would have recognized the significance of the rapidly growing bulge that was pressed against her thigh..

She wanted to scream again, to cry and call out for help, but she did not. She couldn't. The sight of her brother's reaction, the knowledge that he was immediately and unquestionably aroused, put things in an entirely different perspective for her. She did not want Tenma to wake up, to come here, to see her pinned underneath her brother, the monster whose life she had begged him to save a second time.

The guilt would absolutely destroy him, and she was not sure she could bear the shame.

She would rather die than hurt him that way.

And she was willing to bet that her brother knew this, and had probably counted on it.

She closed her eyes, felt tears leak out.

She had not even known that she was crying.

"Tears, darling?"

Johan touched her face, his tenderness at odds with the utterly vile nature of his intentions.

She shut her eyes tight, and turned her face away.

His smile was ironic, and strangely bitter.

"Don't worry, little sister, you will have your revenge very soon, so much sooner than you think."

His hands crept between their bodies, undid the already significantly loosened knot that barely held her robe closed.

She went completely rigid as her naked body was exposed to his gaze.

He stared.

The silence was absolute, broken only by the sounds of his rapidly deepening breathing, and her soft, hiccupping sobs, and the seconds ticking past on the tiny bedside clock.

She felt his erection twitch against her thigh, growing even harder under the dark, rough fabric of his trousers.

But he did not move; he only stared.

It was as though he was trying to memorize her body, to etch the picture of her deeply enough in his mind that it could never be wiped out.

Then, ever so quietly he moved, resting his head upon her chest, his ear positioned directly above her heart.

It was a position he had slept in, so many times, as a child. She had no idea how many times she herself had slept that way, her ear on his chest, listening to his own heartbeat.

The memory of it increased the flow of her tears.

"Please, Older Brother." Her voice was soft, desperate, beseeching. His eyes moved upwards, to lock themselves on her face.

She was looking at him now, openly crying.

"Don't do this. Please. It is not too late to stop now. You cannot possibly want me to hate you."

The smile he gave her was soft, and very sad.

She noticed, with some shock, that his eyes were as wet as her own.

"You really do not understand me at all, do you, Little Sister?"

With a sudden explosion of violence, he moved up, grabbing handfuls of her hair. He pulled her up, ruthlessly, to face him, the movement twisting her bound hands behind her at an awkward angle.

The pain was unexpected, and excruciating. Involuntarily, she gasped.

"Now, listen to me very carefully. " He said, very calmly, very deliberately. "I _do_ want you to hate me. You and that lover of yours… Hate me thoroughly, and completely, both of you. So that when he, or you, or anyone else for that matter, decides to put another bullet in here," he touched his forehead "you will not stop him, or hesitate, or beg him to save me. You will not have any reason to _pretend_ that you want me alive. Do you understand?"

"Older Brother…

"You do not love me. So, for goodness sake, when the time comes for me to die, _let me die_. Do not keep me alive because you pity me, or because of some shadow of misguided affection that you claim to have for me."

He released his painful grip on her hair, and let her fall back on the bed. He studied her. There was absolutely no expression on his face. It was as if the sudden rage he had displayed, just a second ago, had never existed.

Seconds ticked past.

Then with a gentleness that was at complete odds with his earlier roughness, he took her in his arms, held her against him, her bare breasts pressed against the dark material of his shirt. He rested his face against her neck, breathing in her scent, pressing the softest little kisses on her neck.

The kisses saddened her, and revolted her, in equal measure.

"Forgive me, Little Sister, but you have to understand. Your hate is pure. It is a true emotion. And since you cannot love me, I would rather have that hate than a shallow, washed-up, incomplete copy of the love you have for another man. People rarely ever think about those they _like_. Anyone who is not your most important person becomes insignificant to you when you are in love. But you can never forget those you truly hate. I will not let you forget me again, Little Sister. I am going to do whatever I have to do to earn your purest hatred, and make it completely_ mine_."

He bent his head to kiss her mouth.

She turned her head away. Immediately.

Johan smiled sadly at this rejection. His fingers traced her lips gently, wistfully. His eyes gazed into hers.

"No?"

She glared at him with impotent, barely contained fury.

Kisses were an expression of love, after all.

And though she loved her brother, she certainly had no love for this… monster.

And whatever was left of her brother had already rejected her love.

As usual, he understood her perfectly.

"Very well then," He conceded."As you wish."

He pulled her closer. The hand on her face moved to her neck, tracing its long, graceful lines, skimming over the hickey that Tenma had left on her throat. He explored the hollow of her collarbone with his lips and tongue, leaving a similar mark on the opposite side of her throat. It was a message, an obvious gauntlet flung before the other man, left, not on paper or walls this time, but on soft flawless skin, where it would be very easy for Tenma to discover. It was his mark, strategically placed at the scene of his latest crime.

_Look at me, Look at me,_

_The monster in me has grown this big._

He might as well have branded the words on her skin, and left them there for Tenma to find.

Very carefully, he palmed her breasts, stroking her nipples until they began to rise beneath his fingers. He bent his head, placing wet, tender little kisses on the rose pink nubs, gradually drawing one, and then the other, into his mouth, first circling, then caressing; coaxing them to rigid points with his tongue, then stimulating them with gentle suction.

Nina squirmed, trying hard to stifle her body's involuntary responses.

He had wanted her to hate him, he'd said.

It made no sense to her at first. The fact that he was being this careful, this blatantly loving, seemed at complete odds with that aim.

It was when he looked at up her, carefully studying her face, clearly observing her reactions, she understood, with a sudden flash of insight, exactly what it was that he was trying to do.

"You Sadistic Bastard." She whispered in horror.

"Smart girl," he said softly, and placed a mockingly congratulatory kiss on her cheek. "Perhaps you _do_ understand me after all.

She pushed against him, struggling to escape with renewed vigor. Rape was bad enough on its own. She was not sure she could take _this_ added humiliation.

He smiled down at her indulgently, kept his grip very firm, and let her tire herself out.

When she finally stopped struggling, he lowered his head to her ear, and spoke.

"Now I have to admit, quite frankly, that I cannot claim as much experience as your current… _lover_" he spat the word out as if it was a curse. "But trust me, I have done my research. You will not be disappointed, I promise."

He lowered his head, and took her nipple again into his mouth. His right hand roamed, fingers outstretched and spidery, over her ribcage, gliding over the taut, sensitive skin that covered her modest abdominal muscles, gently stroking her hips, sliding caressingly over her thighs, lightly brushing the lips of her sensitive, neatly trimmed mound, then parting the lips to slide inside her. He began to gently, firmly finger her.

The sensation made her shudder with revulsion, and a tentative arousal that shamed her even as she felt it grow.

This, she realized, was precisely what her brother wanted. He wanted her revulsion, her mortification just as much as he wanted her arousal. It was his ultimate aim to drive her mindless, treacherous body insane with desire, then sit back and watch her mind tear itself to shreds with guilt and self loathing and shame.

_A little boy, playing with a line of ants..._

It was revenge; pure, simple, and so absolutely _Johan_. The only difference was that this time, his tools were sexual. His love for her had very little to do with this. Being the bruised, battered deformed and twisted thing that it was, its only purpose in this wretched game was to increase his desire to watch her suffer.

"You sick, sadistic, depraved, vindictive _monster_"

If Johan heard her whisper, he did not bother to acknowledge it. Not that it mattered anyway, since he probably would have agreed completely with her assessment of his character. Johan had never suffered from any delusions of righteousness. He left that particular mental deficiency to pseudo-angels like Tenma.

Quite matter of factly, he pushed her thighs apart and settled between them, easily keeping them spread wide open in spite of her continuous attempts to clamp them shut together as tightly as possible.

It took him some effort to hold her down, but he finally managed it.

"You really do have a lot of energy," he commented "Don't you?"

Then, very gently, he parted her lower lips and stared.

She closed her eyes then, and looked away.

The humiliation she felt was absolutely boundless.

He rested his head on her thigh, the tip of his nose softly brushing her soft, wiry hair. She felt his head shift, just the slightest bit, felt him place the smallest of kisses right _there_, of all places.

His mouth curved upwards in satisfaction at the traces of wetness he found.

She could not see, but she _felt_ it.

He moved closer, nose gently brushing against her clit as tentatively, he began to lick her.

Involuntarily, she squirmed.

Growing bolder, he slid his tongue over her entrance, around it, and inside it. Then slowly, he moved his tongue upwards, gently caressing the velvety folds of skin around her clitoris, teasing the flesh with gentle suction and soft strokes of his tongue. He danced around the painfully erect nub, skimmed it, occasionally brushed at it with his tongue, but never quite put pressure directly on it.

It was driving her mad, and he knew it. This was just another form of torture.

What did he want? She wondered with sudden bitterness, was he trying to reduce her into begging for something her mind was so completely revolted by? Could he, honestly _be_ that cruel?

He looked her dead in the eye, smiled, and resumed his teasing.

Apparently, he_ was_ that cruel.

"Do you really, really have to prolong this?" She asked bitterly. "Haven't you humiliated me enough?"

He looked up, considered her for a while, but did not reply.

However, he had apparently decided to take pity on her, because, when he lowered his head, he pressed his tongue directly over her clit.

An involuntary moan escaped the back of her throat. She tried to cut it off, but it was too late.

Her brother froze. He lifted up his head again. His smile was wide, and triumphant.

"That sound." He sounded more than a little awed. "You finally made it for me."

He lowered his head and mercilessly continued his attack, coaxing the sound from her unwilling lips over and over again. He alternated between long, slow strokes of his tongue, shorter, faster strokes, soft suction, and gentle manipulation with his fingers.

Nina never knew what to expect next. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was rapidly moving towards an unwanted but potentially explosive orgasm.

It seemed her brother was aware of it too. He slid first one finger inside her, then another. Gently masking his actions with soft caressing movements, he probed; his fingers slightly curved inside her, his movements were careful, and deliberately searching.

He knew he had found what he was looking for when her body suddenly went rigid. He gently caressed that spot, committing its position into memory as he did so. Then, looking directly into her eyes, he hit it, thumbing her clit at exactly the same time.

The orgasm was intense, and brutal.

She bit her lip hard, drawing blood in her effort to stifle the scream that rose to her throat, the sheets underneath her flooded with an inexplicably abundant wetness.

She closed her eyes, struggled to catch her breath, fighting back tears of intense humiliation.

She was so consumed with her mortification that she did not notice the unexpected tightening of her brother's grip on her thighs, or his sudden shudder and sharp intake of breath

Nina felt sick with the degrading shame of it.

She wondered whether this was how Richard Braun had felt when he gave up all hope and pretence of goodness and took the bottle of cheap whiskey from Johan, despite knowing full well that the young man was going to kill him.

Johan was right. She realized. She had to give him credit for knowing what he was doing; when this was over, she was going to thoroughly hate him.

She hoped, oh she fervently hoped, that knowing he had fully earned her hatred, in all its intense purity, would make him happy.

Helplessly, she began to cry again.

Johan looked up at once. He had the strangest expression on his face.

"Don't feel so bad, Little Sister." He said softly. "It will be over soon, I promise."

His hand caressed the soft skin at the top of her thigh, soothing it as though it was the skin on a baby's back.

"And, if it is any consolation, I have to tell you that seeing this, watching you come…. You were…you are… the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

Nina was _not_ consoled.

Johan moved up then, seeking her eyes out with his own, making her look at him.

"Don't cry, Little Sister, Please, stop crying."

She turned her face from him.

He studied her quietly.

"I was not planning on telling you this," He said wryly. "But if it will make you feel any better..." He paused, appearing distinctly uncomfortable. "You probably should know that you are not the only person who is feeling rather embarrassed at the moment. I came right after you did."

She gave him a teary, incredulous stare. How on earth was that supposed to make her feel better?

"Don't think too badly of me for it; you do have more experience at this than I do, you know."

It was confirmed beyond reasonable doubt. Her brother was a vicious, unfeeling, cold hearted bastard.

Nina honestly did not know how she managed it, but she kicked him squarely in the face, and off the bed.

She was completely furious.

Johan, however, seemed extraordinarily pleased by her outburst. This furious, absolutely gorgeous woman was the sister he knew and loved. The weeping, defeated creature she had been a moment earlier was not.

It was with a strange exuberance that he got up and began to strip himself of his clothes. He was laughing softly when he climbed back unto the bed, completely naked.

"My goodness, Anna." he exclaimed teasingly, drawing her resisting body closer. "You don't have to be so angry about it. I am not a doddering old man like your boyfriend. See?" He pressed himself significantly against her thigh.

To her utter amazement, he was hard again.

But she refused to look at him, or at _it_. She was not going to give him that satisfaction.

He smiled, clearly amused at her anger. "I did promise that I would not disappoint you."

He moved then, positioning himself swiftly between her legs.

Up till now, Nina had carefully managed to avoid looking at him. When she felt him probing at her entrance, her downwards glance was purely instinctive.

She froze, eyes widening. Then she began to struggle.

It had been awkward and painful enough with Tenma's just above average size. There was no way her body was going to be able to accommodate that… thing.

He held her down gently, but quite firmly.

"Just relax, Little Sister. It will hurt more if you don't."

She went very still, but her body was still tense, Her eyes were wide and terrified. A panicked whimper escaped her.

"Please, don't do this. It will never work. There is no way…" She began.

"Shh. " He soothed, "Don't be so afraid. Just try to relax, I promise I will be very careful." He smiled at her, rather wistfully. "But, how quickly you have forgotten; we were formed together, made to fit, if you really think about it. We are the same. There is no way that this cannot work. The person you chose is the one who is the outsider."

Then, positioning himself again, he slid slowly, as carefully as he had promised, inside her.

Nina closed her eyes.

It was uncomfortable; her walls were stretched to the point of pain. The fullness she had welcomed in Tenma's case was in this case, completely unbearable.

No matter how gently the intrusion was made, it was an invasion, and her mind refused to accept it.

So many different layers of pain…

She thought about the brother she had grown up with, the little boy who always looked after her, who was ready to die to protect her. She remembered the pale headed boy who had patched up her wounds when she hurt herself, who had warmed her freezing form with his own body, who had stolen food to keep her alive. She could not reconcile the image of that boy with the man on top of her, inside her, invading her body and hurting her.

That little boy would have rather died than hurt her.

She wondered, between then and now, how things had managed to become this distorted, and ugly and strange. She wondered what happened to that little boy in the years they were apart to turn him into this monster.

But no, she corrected herself. He had always been a monster, with a human side that clung desperately to her in order to save itself from drowning.

That human side was dead now. Drowned and gone forever.

Johan began to move, slowly, carefully on top of her, stimulating her painfully erect clit with each thrust.

She did not care anymore.

She was too busy mourning the death of her brother.

A sensation of unreality came over her, a disconnection from what was going on. For a moment, it felt almost as though she stood outside her own body, watching her own brother violate her, watching the involuntary responses of her foolish, disloyal body to his deliberate stimulation. It was from a distance that she felt the pain gradually become pleasure, as Johan used what he had learned of her body to bring her to the brink, once more, then over it.

He held her close, when it was over, breathing hard against her neck, pressing soft kisses on her face, running his hands over her limp, pliant, unresisting flesh.

She felt him grow hard again, felt him move to position himself once more at her entrance.

She could not fight him anymore. She was just too tired.

"Please, Johan, no more." Her voice was soft, pleading. "You have had your revenge, let me be. No more."

"I can't stop." He said, just as softly. "I am sorry, Little Sister, but I can't. I have wanted this for too long."

A monster, with a monstrous hunger, and monstrous appetites, feasting on its pleasure as well as hers

He stared into her eyes as he moved, deliberately prolonging the act, covetously gorging himself on her responses.

A monster at a poisoned banquet, knowingly feasting upon its own death, was bound to be wild and completely uncontrollable, to satisfy every desire, and indulge every single whim with reckless abandon.

Eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow you _die_.

It took longer for him to come this time.

It should have been enough for anyone, even him.

But, when hunger was sated, there was always greed.

So she was not surprised when, before long, he grew hard again, and slipped once more inside her.

She stopped counting the number of times her treacherous body came.

It did not matter; nothing really did anymore.

The sky was lightening, softly changing from black to grey when he finally decided that it was enough. He reached above her, and freed the hands tied to the head of the bed.

Then he gathered her naked, used and violated body to his chest, holding it as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

"I love you."

He just had to say that, the one thing that could crack the shell of her protective, carefully constructed apathy.

It was just too much.

Nina began to cry again.

And Johan held her, tenderly stroking her hair, as if he was not the one who had just repeatedly raped her.

And she was twisted enough to turn in his arms, and bury her face in his chest.

It was not weeping. It was an agonized scream, muffled by the firm warmth of his chest. It was a heartrending wail, a form of mourning for her brother, who was dead, and for the thing he had destroyed in her as well.

When her sobs had ceased, Johan still held on to her.

She was quiet. She did not move, or speak.

After a while, he finally…finally let her go, and slipped out of the bed.

She heard him move about the room. Heard him walk into the adjoining bathroom and shut the door behind him. She listened to the sounds of water running, then the shower, then silence.

Hate.

How right he had been.

You never could forget the monster that you hated.

When he came back, he was completely dressed. His hair was damp, but carefully brushed. His shoes were neatly polished, and he smelled of her brother's cologne.

The monster had no _right_ to wear her brother's cologne.

Hate.

He was so clean, as usual, so handsome and immaculate after his crime.

Hate.

He walked over to her, sat on the bed beside her, leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"Listen to the news, Little Sister. You will hear about me soon." He said softly. "When you do, come for me, I will be waiting for you in Prague, where this whole madness began. Come yourself, Anna, or send your lover after me, it does not matter which. I always keep my promises to you, and I promise you this; you will not be robbed of your revenge."

He kissed her gently, lingeringly, on the forehead.

She did not move, did not respond.

"My life is yours, it has always been yours, so when you come to take it from me, I will not stop you."

He stood up to leave.

"I will say goodbye to you when we meet again, in Prague."

He left Nina alone, lying on the bed, to nurse her newborn hate.

She lay on her side, watching the dark grey of the sky lighten, then gradually shift to shades of blue and fluffy white, like any other good, innocent, storybook day.

Her brother's semen was wet between her thighs, on the sheets, inside her. The sheets beneath her were cold, wet, clammy and uncomfortable; soaked with both his come and hers.

Filth.

The Magnificent Steiner was still running around the tiny TV screen, beating up the bad guys and generally saving the day.

Lies.

She listened to the birds sing outside her window.

The room stank. It reeked of sex and Johan's aftershave.

She smiled.

It was a broken, twisted parody of her usual smile.

Prague, He had said.

She would see him again, in Prague.

And this time, when she fired the gun, _she would not miss_.

This time, there would be no Dr Tenma to extract the bullet from his battered skull.

This time, she would stand over his fallen body, and watch him bleed until she was sure he was well and truly dead.

But even after he was dead, she knew she would never forget him.

You never forgot the monster that you hated after all.

As long as you remembered, you would always hate.

And as long as you hated, you would never be happy.

Happiness, Nina thought, was such a fragile thing.


End file.
